Beta the Lost: Adventures in Templehelm
by Zurui Etowa-ru
Summary: Beta now knows who she is. However, will that knowledge help her as new threats face Templehelm? Note: This character makes use of the Elven language developed by J.R.R. Tolkien and adapted by The Grey Company.
1. Chronicle of the Lost Queen

Between the lightning's brilliant flash and the booming rumble of the thunder, Beta jumped, landing her unceremoniously out of bed in a tangle of blankets. Her home, which was suspended around a jungle tree above _Taur'nost_, her fortress-island, remained steady and still, despite the wind's violent protests. It took her a few moments of time to extricate herself from the prison of linen and stand to peer out one of her windows.

From the chill of the glass, the rain felt icy as it fell in sheets against her window, mysteriously ending at the desert across the river. However, a horde of undead was gathering, haunted eyes looking hungrily toward her home, and toward the other inhabitants of Prism. In the white hot light produced by the furious lightning storm above the desert, some of the creatures began to shamble in orderly fashion toward the newly founded settlement of villagers, the Cressida Village.

Overall, the entire sight was very wrong. These things looked far more intelligent than your average score of undead, and aside from that, Wintival's own didn't usually attack Prism in a horde, as Prism's king, although he never quite stated it, worshiped the Frozen Mother. A shiver ran down her spine as one of the creatures appeared to spot her from through the glass, and began to move pointedly toward Taur'nost's tree-bridge.

Purely out of reaction, Beta took up her armor, blades, bow, and arrows. She began carefully down the vine ladder, ignoring the frigid pelting of the icy rain. Alighting branch to branch, the Elven woman took aim at the creature, striking it down before it arrived at her gates.

"Guinadagnir: PILINOR!" The snarl of a spell almost beckoned lightning from the sky as she drew three arrows from her quiver, nocking them and preparing her strike. Instead of firing them at the creatures, she fired them over head. Lit with intense heat, the arrows flew. Three became six, six became twelve, and twelve became twenty-four; all arrows landed in the head or heart of the undead, engulfing them in magic flames. They fell to the ground, smouldering to nothing more than charred remnants of bone.

Beta had to kneel against the tree she was upon for a few moments, recovering her strength. As she stood again, she felt the rumble of something striking her doors, and hard. With a curse, she leapt from the tree to the bridge below, launching in such a way that would spin and flip her to land facing her doorway.

The Wild one came to approximately the creature's knee, and it railed on her door once again. Snarling, the woman's eyes narrowed. "I'll not let you defile the sanctity of Taurnost, fiend!"  
>Drawing her sword in one hand, her axe in the other, Beta launched toward the undead abomination. Fire erupted from wounds carved by the axe - Smoulder - and the Firesword. With a hellish screech, the creature hurtled after the crazy Elf as she deftly dodged its swinging blows and drew it off the bridge. Once she'd gained enough distance from the thing, she loosely sheathed her blades and drew her bow, arrow nocked.<p>

"Dagnir en guina norsa: PILINOR!" As she loosed the arrow, it lit with an emerald flame. The giant swiped his hand at the arrow, but did nothing to avert the deadly missile from its target. It struck him square in the chest, and it shrieked in agony as cruel emerald fire spread over his body. It was not long before he was a pile of bones and ash, but the strain was obvious on Beta.

Kneeling in the sands, the woman shivered, waiting patiently to recover her strength. Earthen rubies locked in the direction that the raiding party had gone, and Beta knew she did not have much time until they were upon the rest of Prism. All the while, she could not help but wonder.

"Why are Wintival's creations attacking her own child's charges?" Slipping her bow over her shoulder, Beta drew her blades again, sprinting toward the rest of the Syndicate, avoiding the wintery forests as she did. If it was Wintival's doing, she did not want to make herself an open target for an angry god.

She caught up with the shambling raiders as they were rounding the corner to Shunte's home. With a furious cry, Beta began to slay them, setting them ablaze with a stroke or two of Smoulder or the Firesword. Shunte emerged from her home as the last head rolled, stopping just shy of her foot. She shrieked in surprise, hopping back; normally, the Cavick would have no problem with the sight, but it was early in the morning, and it had been unexpected.

"What in Cavilon's name? Beta, what's going on?!" Stone-grey eyes that were once purple looked to the Elf, concerned and angry.  
>"I don't know who sent them, but there are undead seeking to attack Prism. Some headed for Cressida. Hurry!" With those words, the Wildaven was off again, bounding up the mountainside toward Cressida.<p>

She was too late. The town was ablaze and the screams of the villagers could be heard. Eyes narrowed in fury, the woman roared, brandishing her weapons as she lunged at the nearest undead creature. She split its skull with the force she brought down on it from Smoulder, and kicked its burning body away from the wooden door, now badly damaged. Taking off toward the next creature she saw, she continued until there were no more in sight.

Sprinting up the stairs, Beta let out a cry of frustration as she saw a villager's door break and undead surge in. Shunte, who had arrived from the opposite direction, saw it too. "BETA! The villagers!"  
>"NO! No, no, no, no, NO!" With every repeated phrase, the Wild woman lurched forward, stopping short of the doorway. The undead were almost through the bedroom door, where she knew the family was hiding.<p>

With a snarl of pure fury, the woman cut through half of the abominations before they breached the door, as her cavick ally blazed arrows through the doorway in assistance. There was nothing she could do while she heard the terrified screams and cries of the family. "_**NO!**_" With a howl of anguish, Beta sliced through the rest of the creatures, and looked apologetically toward the family, who had already turned. Hungry, haunted eyes looked upon the Wildaven, recognition gone.

Tears blurred Beta's vision as she brought her weapons up to bear. She thought she would retch as she attempted to speak. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry I couldn't save you..." Grim expression on her face, Beta dispatched the undead shadows of the former family. Splattered with gore, the woman emerged. The villagers crowded around, horrified at what had just happened. One look at Shunte, and the communication was clear; no one within had lived.

"Beta..." The cavick reached toward the Wildaven, but she pushed past.  
>"Beta?" The Wildaven shook her head.<br>"Shunte..." Beta's voice lacked anything remotely close to emotion. "Please help the villagers repair the damage to their homes. I need to speak with Kelvin." Rude as it might have been, Beta didn't give Shunte the time to argue. She stalked off toward the tower, white-knuckling the handles of her weapons.

_Lord Kelvin, I request an audience with you._ The Elf reached out with her mind, but felt nothing; not the usual consciousness of the King. There was no-one, and nothing but cold. Flooded with a sudden panic, the woman scaled the stairs to the Necropolis Tower, slamming the metal door open.

"Imirisilme." The rasping baritone struck a chord with the woman, and she froze in place. There had been only one on this side of the world who had known that name, and she had watched him die. Or, at least, she'd thought she had.  
>"Tiriador?" Beta's head slowly turned, taking in the sight of the man. He was literally emitting cold, which was sending chills all over her body. He was taller than she remembered, and a lot more pale. His eyes had taken on a luminescent blue hue, while the whites were now black. His hair, once blonde as sunlit rays, was now white and brittle. Also in his hand, he held a Jungle Gemstone, which looked corrupt; whatever was in it was horribly twisted, tortured, and felt a lot more like the Tiri she knew than the person standing in front of her. Examining it more closely, the realization hit the Elf like a runaway minecart.<p>

Tiriador had been made into a Lich. Oh, crap.

A smile crossed the man's cracked lips. "I see you have figured it out." The rasping chuckle, combined with the expression, were both very wrong.  
>"Tiriador... what happened to you?" Beta stood her ground, reining in her terror. She'd never actually faced a Lich - sure, she'd heard of them during her training, but a Lich was not something you wanted to generally run into.<p>

"I died, obviously." The Lich snorted. "Someone decided they had more use of me undead." He smirked. "It's actually a bit entertaining, what with controlling my own mini-legion, and all..."  
>Beta's eyes narrowed. "Those things in the village were yours?"<br>The Lich's smirk widened into a sinister grin, and he dipped his head in acknowledgement. The woman's knuckles were white and the grips of her weapons creaked as her fists tightened around them. "I should slay you where you stand, Lich." The pain and rage were obvious on her face. The Tiri she knew would not have done such a thing. This _thing_ was merely an imposter.

"Delicious. Give it a try, sweeting. Or should I say, 'Give it your best shot, your Highness?'" The Lich mock-bowed, gesture full of contempt. The woman was inches from ripping into him, but she held off for a moment longer. "'Highness?' What exactly do you mean?"  
>"You don't know." The Lich almost purred, a cat-ate-canary smile on his face.<br>"Know what?" The Elf was apprehensive. It was not typically wise to trust the lies spewing forth from a Lich's mouth.  
>"Sir Umbriel is... gone, for lack of a better term. You," his bony hand curled into a point, aimed directly between her eyebrows. "Have inherited the mantle."<br>"Utinu en _lokirim_," Beta spat. "What have you done with Kelvin?"  
>"Nothing. But he is gone, none the less."<br>With a snarl of rage, Beta lunged at the Lich. With an explosion of disembodied laughter, he was gone, blades singing through empty air.

"Damn it!" The Wildaven roared in frustration. "This day just keeps getting better and better." Beta sighed, leaning against a cool, obsidian wall and slumping to the floor.

What now?


	2. Requiem Aeternam, Part I

The woman hustled about Taur'Nost, humming as she went. Branches needed trimming, animals needed feeding, there was much to do. Beta sighed, content with the work, oblivious to the world around her.

She'd had a feeling that doom was approaching. Not any one person's, but the doom of the world. It was the best way she could describe the unease resting upon her shoulders, and the tension within her whenever she gave herself a moment to rest. It was in this way, she thought, that animals were privy to catastrophe and fled before it happened. She, however, would not flee, despite how the feeling, the weight, the overbearing pressure of dread, left her short of breath and trembling against an unknown chill.

To push the feeling from her mind, she kept herself busy with things. Everything, from tending Taur'Nost to planning with Shunte about the new Cavick port Prism was to erect in the north. Anything was worth it, if it kept her thoughts occupied and well away from idly seeking out the towering shadow of chilling dread.

The iron-wrought doors to Taur'Nost slammed open, and Beta jumped in surprise, slipping with her shears and slicing into her hand.

"BETA!" Such a short word, yet it conveyed so much to the elven woman with the bleeding hand. The timbre was wracked with agony, an anguish she'd heard so long ago in the troubling times she was striving to keep her mind away from. The Wildaven glanced to Shunte as she ran in. The poor thing only made it about half-way to the shrine before she collapsed in the grass, sobbing.

"Shunte?" Beta's timbre was calm, as a mother's voice would be to soothe an infant's squalling. "Little one, what's the matter?" Deep down, something told her. Someone very near had died. Something had happened. The Cavick before her did not make such displays of emotion for just any little thing... her heart had been wounded gravely. Beta pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind, praying it was not the case as she knelt down to console the half-elfling.

"Beta, it's Mag-" The girl stifled a sob. "It's Magnus. He's-" More sobs. "He's dead! Gods, Beta, Magnus is dead!" Shunte was lost to uncontrollable sobbing, and Beta reflexively pulled the Cavick against her, leaning back against one of the sturdy oaks of the island fortress for support.

Beta went cold, from the inside out, as though someone had shoved a shard of the coldest ice from the deepest depths of the frozen wastes within her core. She noted, oddly, that the colors of her vision dulled almost completely to grayscale, and for a few precious moments, she remained frozen in this state. Her face lacked emotion, her eyes held no trace of the person she'd been a few moments prior.

It was dangerous for her to think at this particular point, for fear her emotions would leap from her in a most abhorrent fashion. The difficulty of controlling such feelings only escalated as she attempted to keep her thoughts from drifting. She would breathe in deeply, exhale slowly, and continue to do so.

It was not safe to react. Not yet. The emotions were still too raw; anger and sadness and pain, and things even deeper and darker that defied description.

Without her bidding, her mind fell to the last time she had encountered Magnus.

_"Magnus... I am concerned. I've been hearing whispers. Lochlan... Dynalir... new conflicts, wars... something is coming."  
><em>_Magnus flinched, nodding slowly.__  
>"I... I fear that it is happening again. Something big. Along the lines of the Thousand Year War in Divia, so long ago..."<br>__The man remained quiet, listening.__  
>"I want to believe we'll avoid it. I want so much for that to be a part of history, but I fear history repeats itself."<br>__"It has a habit of that, yes."__  
>"Magnus... I'm afraid. Not much scares me these days; the thought of another Divia..." her voice faltered, willowy form trembling.<br>__The Quillborn stepped toward her, moving to hold her in his arms.__  
>"I... I can't lose you again. It would kill me. Promise me, whatever happens... promise me that you'll be careful. Be safe. Please, Magnus. Please..."<br>__Magnus nodded, holding Beta tighter. "You have my word, Imirisilme. You have my word..."_

Silent tears began to fall from reddened, earthen orbs, streaking down pallid cheeks. Beta hugged Shunte tighter by instinct, eyes slamming shut as both women mourned a loved one lost.


	3. Requiem Aeternam, Part II

The sound of a shovel burying itself into the frozen earth of the Taiga shattered the otherwise still morning. No birds sang, no people talked; there was no one person or being with Beta as she took to her task.

With a soft huffing sound, one of her wolves approached her, sadness in his eyes. As Beta took a break, he would nuzzle her arm, wishing to be petted. Distant eyes glanced down at the wolf, and the most minuscule of smiles tugged at the corners of her mouth. She obliged the furry one with a few strokes along the length of his scalp, and a few scratches behind pointed ears.

"It won't be long now." The music in her voice was gone. What escaped was a weak, raspy shadow of what it had formerly been. The woman took to shoveling again, muscles burning against the strain of digging in Prism's small memorial yard.

The stone in front of where she was digging had yet to be marked. It was a simple thing - smooth stone with a marble tile top. The trench was nearly seven feet long, and approaching four feet deep. Only two feet by seven more to go; fourteen feet of earth left to move. Beta sighed, wincing ever-so-slightly as she gripped the shovel with her bandaged hand, applying her other hand as weight against it.

The task took a mere few hours left to complete. Yet in her mind, it had to be done. She could not rest until she had done this. Other monuments to the man's name were not enough; _she_ had to make one. It was just simply her way.

Digging complete, the exhausted woman climbed out of the hole, barely managing. She collapsed on the frozen ground, face toward another gravestone. Tears welled in her eyes and her injured hand throbbed, bandages becoming red.

'Brom Elfsson.' That was the headstone she had faced. A great spruce tree separated the memorial grave for Brom, who had died in battle alongside his family, and the new one that was being created now. It was as though the woman had no energy left to continue.

_Return to me, my child. Return to the Jungle's embrace, and rest your weary heart._

As it always was, Mother Wildaven's voice was as comforting to her as the warmth of the sun's rays on a frozen body; as pleasant as the perfume of the jungle flowers to the nose. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of returning home.

"O Mother, I only wish I could." Beta managed to roll onto her back, tears streaking down the side of her face. "Yet I have much left to do. Questions unanswered. Deeds undone. Please... allow me some more time to continue."

_You could always awaken from your slumber, my child. I would not prevent you that... but I see the pain in your heart, in your very soul. Please. Rest. All you must do is close your eyes, I will bring you back home._

"Forgive my disobedience, o great Mother of the Wilds. I cannot yet rest. I... must ensure... that things are attended to..."

The woman's eyes closed for a moment. She tried willing her body to move, but it no longer would.

_I understand. I will accept you with open arms when you are ready to return home to me._

She felt a slight warmth at her core, which spread outward like liquid life into her extremities. It took a moment, but she was able to stand again.

"Thank you, Mother. I am unworthy." After a pause, she bowed her head. "In Thy Name."

Tears began to fall again as she gazed at the sky. After a moment, she hauled the coffin toward the open grave. The box was mostly empty; a few flowers, dried and set gently against the silken pillow. Gently, she lowered the pine coffin into the ground, and began the task of replacing the earth. By the time the task was finished, night had fallen. Beta collapsed on the freshly replaced earth, frozen fingers numb.

After a moment, she withdrew a carving knife from within her cloak. Taking it to the stone, she pressed it inward; the stone hissed, melting away at its touch. In the stone, she wrote these words:

"  
>Magnus Cruor<p>

R.I.P.  
>Amin mela lle...<p>

As she finished the scrollwork of the last 'e,' Beta dropped the writing knife, crumpling against the earth.

"I will never ... forget..." she whispered, tears streaming solidly from earthen orbs. "Never."

The woman's eyes closed, and she knew no more. Vaguely, she remembered what she'd thought were cries. A voice she should remember, calling a name she should respond to. Something nagging her to wake up, but she could not possibly do so. She was too tired to respond to the workings of the world. Perhaps it was time to return home, after all?


End file.
